We drove down the street to a yardsale.
I found a vintage plaid shirt from a tiny old lady in a blue polkadot dress. It was a 1970s polyester number. Navy blue, white dots, lace and ruffles. I own a similar one in burgundy. She was selling fudge. Homemade she said. With hemp butter and soy milk.
50.each or 3 for $1. I was sold.
Not by the hemp butter, or the soymilk, or even the price.
I wanted a little piece of her.
Barely up to my shoulders, skinny as a stick, silver hair hanging to her shoulders.
I saw myself, and everyone I ever loved in this woman's face.
I bought some fudge andd told her I loved her dress.
"Thank you! It's vintage!" As she gathered a bit in her hand like a little girl.
And then she talked and talked about her fudge, her dress, another dress she made earlier that week, the friend that gave her the shirts she was selling (one of which I'm wearing now), her ceramic kitten collection in her garden...
I felt myself surrounded in her beautiful, lonely world.
I wanted to abandon my life and join hers.
It was a life I had once. With my grandma.
I wondered if she had children and if they had children and even maybe they have some by now.
I wonder if they visit or if she's always all alone.
I like to think she's not, but there's only one way to be sure.
I'm going to walk down there now and tell her how great the fudge was.

My Nan died on Friday.
I haven't seen in her too long because of the shit with my dad.
She also lived far away. I don't drive. I don't even care to ride. Anxiety eating me.
I loved her so much. She was always so kind. A sincerely good woman.
I can't even go to the services because that side of my family is nuts.
I can't face my 'father' after 15 years at his grandmother's funeral.
I can't rob that wonderful woman of her glory and splendor with my presence.
So I won't go. I'll visit her another time. I wish I could have done it while she was alive.
I wish a lot of things about that part of my life.
But I can't grow a wishbone where a backbone should be.
So when the dust has settled...I'll find my way to where I need to go.